


one thing i could save from the fire

by lyricsandhearts



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricsandhearts/pseuds/lyricsandhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a word, in a phrase, it's a movie. You want to die for love; you always have. (A sort of sequel to <i>without having to confess</i>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	one thing i could save from the fire

**5.**

After the flames have died down, all that's left is smoke. Smoke, filling your lungs and making you gag. Smoke, burning your eyes and hovering inches above your skin.

And when the smoke clears, you're left with the incomprehensible, crushing reality of what you've done.

You can still feel Zayn's mouth on your own, his lips, his hands cut away from himself in the small of your back, his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go, and maybe you will, maybe you will.

You had not expected this.

No one had - not Harry, with his ghost white face and his eyes wide, his hand shielding his mouth, perhaps to keep words in or guilt out; not Louis, with a smirk wiped clean off his face, hand frozen in midair as if to catch something he might have dropped; not Niall, hurrying to gather his jaw, which has fallen to the floor.

Especially not Zayn, whose fingers are lifted up to his face, shaking and incredulous, when the smoke has cleared completely. It is not the first time you have done something like this,  not the first time you've kissed by far, but it is the first time you've been caught. It's the first time any of you have _meant_ to be caught, truly and honestly.

See, now you've got this fire you've started, and you've got this fire-breathing dragon to slay, and none of you ever managed to learn that fighting fire with fire only gets you burned.

Zayn has kissed you. You have kissed Zayn. Somebody has kissed somebody and there are _people_ all around, silent until they aren't, and when they aren't they're _screaming_ \- cameras flashing, white hot reminders of the blazing permanancy of every mistake you could possibly make and have made - you were burned, you were about to burn.

(You're still on fire.)

**4.**

Zayn is not coping and Harry is angry and the world is filled with both whispers and shouts, and you're not sure how exactly this became your life.

You wish there was something you could do. You wish there was something you had done. You wish there was something you hadn't done. You wish, you wish, but wishing doesn't get you anywhere.

He locks himself in his room with paint, splatters it all over the walls and turns on the radio louder than anyone can bear, never says a word, and all you want is to kick the door down, to kiss him until he's bruised, until everything is all right again, but nothing will ever be the same - no one can bring themselves to turn on the television because all they see is themselves.

It's not your fault and it isn't his, it isn't Harry's or Louis's or Niall's, not anybody's but somebody who thinks that the way you feel is something to hide away. Harry and Louis were in trouble so you and Zayn protected them, and now you and Zayn are in trouble (speeches from management, paparazzi meltdown, outraged parents of young, impressionable, easily upset fans, the works) but it was all worth it because you are five boys who protect each other no matter what. If it means ruination, so be it. If it means shouting and revolution and making history, so be it.

(Remember, history is whoever wants to become it - history is whatever it decides it wants to be, but history is not picky.

Not at all.)

**3.**

Questions shooting at you from all directions, sharp and quick, leaving welts and bruises like arrows - is he your boyfriend, how are you handling all this new attention, are you happy?

"We always thought it would be Harry and Louis," they'll say, wink wink, nudge nudge, insufferable grins with body language that makes you sick to your stomach, makes Zayn burrow closer into you side and Niall _actually_ snarl.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't," you snap, and maybe it's a little harsher than necessary but it's their fault for asking. Harry wants to say something but the words get caught in his throat, they always do, and you want so badly to speak for him even though you know you can't, and Louis reaches out to grab his hand. It's a conspicuous motion, fingers lacing between Harry's, and you realize that he hopes somebody notices.

Nobody does, of course, or everybody does but nobody cares. It drives Louis crazy and finally, finally he's on television, one question too many pushing him over the edge of a cliff, _is this thing on_ , ranting incomprehensibly and suddenly it isn't just you and Zayn anymore. He buries his fingernails in Harry's shoulders and Harry bites his lip and the reporter sits in a shocked and grotesquely pleased silence.

 _How does it feel to be a hero?_ they ask.

 _I'm not a hero,_ you want to say, _none of us are heroes, we aren't, we're just a bunch of scared kids, the lot of us._

The world is still burning, and it's taking you with it.

But someone else out there is angry, too, you think. Someone else is tired of being lied to, just as much as you're tired of doing the lying. Maybe a lot of someones.

And maybe, just maybe, you can hear their voices, calling for something more, deserving something better:  _We're not sorry. We know how it works. The world is no longer mysterious, so why are you trying to pretend it is?_

**2.**

"I'm sorry," you say, eyes shut tight, face buried in the crook of his neck, fingers grasping at his shirt as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded, and maybe he is. Maybe he is.

"Nothing to be sorry for," he replies quietly, and you know he means it with all of his heart but you pull him even closer. If you were holding him any tighter you would be one, and you're not sure you would mind that all too much. "We're dead. We're as good as done, you know that, right?" He laughs but there isn't any humor in it - just the sound of a heart broken down by circumstance.

The sound of your own breathing is driving you insane. "I love you even more," you say. "No reason to bother trying not to kiss you in public now, is there?"

He laughs again. This time it's real - so, so real, and you're laughing too, it's not funny but it's so _funny_ and you're doubled over, wheezing, trying to compose yourself, and so is he. You're grasping at each other, straightening yourselves up, clutching at your stomachs and wiping tears from your eyes, and there's a knock at the door.

"Quit fucking around in there, yeah?" comes Louis's voice, but he's laughing too. "Save it for the cameras, why don't you."

You look at Zayn, the way his smile curves, his eyes, and for the first time in a very long time you feel perfectly fine.

**1.**

Meanwhile, you're all waiting for something. Meanwhile the world has been shaken beneath your feet and you're only trying to put the broken pieces back together - something resembling normal is slowly coming together, even though you aren't quite sure if there ever really was a normal in the first place.

Nothing is changing but you never liked that ending much in the first place, so you take Zayn's hand and paint over it. Make something new. Create your own story, and this time you couldn't ask for a better one.

This one is yours.


End file.
